Wet (and Rainy) Dreams
by Foxieglove
Summary: Starkey's having very interesting dreams and talking in his sleep. The other pirates are traumatized accordingly.


A/N: This fic came as a total surprise. I just got the idea and started writing. Listening to Fiona Apple, drinking Pepsi, and eating pizza is solely to blame. Jukes is 20 in this fic and Maegie is 19, so there are no underage participants in this story. Even though some tend to act like it. :P 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Deal it out Smee, fer landsakes!" roared Mason, irritated with the bosun's aimless shuffling. 

"Begorra, ye impatient man! I'm a'just makin' sure th' cards aren't dealt upside down."

Billy snerked and shook his head. Smee, in his obliviousness, took it as a sneeze.

"Well an' bless ye', Mr. Jukes."

"Smee, get on with it!" growled Mullins. "Maegie! More grog, if ye please."

"Coming!" called the nineteen-year old woman's voice from the hallway. She walked in with a pitcher of the alchohol and several mugs. 

As Smee dealt the cards - finally - Maegie filled the cups with grog and began handing them around the table. "Mind if I play?" she asked them, indicating the extra set of cards in the deck. 

"Women don't play poker," snorted Mullins. Maegie scowled.

"Fine then. _Geezers_ don't get grog." Her hand snatched his mug away before Robert could move to prevent it. 

"Allright!" yelled Mullins, reaching for the cup she dangled merrily out of his reach. "Ye can play, but don't whine to me if you lose!"

Billy waited for Maegie to pour his mug, and scowled as she sat down at the bench, gathering up the cards Smee had dealt to her. "Where's my drink?"

"You want a repeat of the last time?" Maegie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh please," Jukes groaned. "So I got smashed. _You_ got roaring drunk off champagne, if I recall, so you're no-one to talk."

"That wasn't ordinary champagne!" Maegie protested, turning a bit pink. "I swear, that jerk slipped something --"

"I had to carry you myself to the longboat. You kept calling me Fredric."

"Yeah, well when you were drunk, you were calling me something else _entirely!_" Maegie shot back. 

A red flash of embarrassment flushed over Jukes' cheekbones and he looked down at his cards, while the other men snickered and elbowed each other. 

"We's playin' when?" Cookson scolded. "Yous all so impatient to start . . ."

"Cookson's right. What's your bid, Starkey? . . . Starkey? Where's Starkey?" A snore came from one of the bunks as Mason's answer. "Oh. Musta collapsed o' boredom while Smee was makin' sure the cards weren't 'upside down'."

Smee coughed and straightened up in his chair proudly. "I did me best, to be sure."

"Mullins?"

As the players declared their bets, no-one paid the least mind to Starkey, who moaned softly, lost in the world of dreams. 

  
* * * 

  
The rain was lashing against them as they struggled to tie up the storm sails, thunder clapping overhead frightfully. Starkey, drenched, raced into the Captain's cabins to tell him of the squall they were expecting. Only, as the door opened, Hook was nowhere to be found. 

Instead, a folded cloak, the Captain's hat, and boots were folded neatly in the Captain's chair, along with a note addressed to Starkey himself!

_Dear Gentlemen Starkey,_

_You are my most valuable crewman, and thus do I leave you with the sole responsibility of guiding my crew through this squall. The fate of the Jolly Roger rests in your hands. If you are successful, you will inherit the full privileges of my station as the Captain of this vessel and crew._

_Best of luck,  
Albus Dumbledore_

Starkey blinked. _Who in the hell is Albus Dumbledore? _He looked again, and the signature was different:

_Fail and I will have your guts for bootlaces,  
Captain James Hook Esquire_

_Well_, thought Starkey, _that makes more sense_. He donned the clothes left for him and swaggered out on to the deck, feeling everyone's gaze resting solely on him. 

"Please, sir," begged Jukes, "Won't you help us? We need your expert guidance through this horrid hurricane!"

"I will do my best," Starkey sniffed. 

Maegie, wearing a gown that made her look like a cross between a Viking opera singer and Queen Elizabeth, clapped her hands in glee, and threw her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek. "My hero!" she squealed, squeezing the near breath out of him. 

"Maegie!" he gasped in surprise and pain, trying to disengage himself from the girl's vice-like grip. How very unlike her . ..

  
* * *

  
"M-Maegie . . ." Starkey muttered. To be more precise, _moaned_. Loudly. 

Loud enough to make everyone at the table go very quiet, stare at Starkey, then back at Maegie who didn't seem to get what the fuss was about. Jukes couldn't resist. 

"So . . . you never told me you two were . . ."

And in that second, she got it. 

"Billy!" she hissed, flinging her cards face-down. "You are such a pervert!"

"And you are blushing as red I've never seen." Jukes baited. Maegie buried her face in her hands. 

"Shut up!"

"Come on, it's not like it's all that embarrassing. Starkey's not that bad. Or is he?"

"The only thing I'm embarrassed at," Maegie gritted, "Is you. ALL of you! It's probably a perfectly innocent dream that I just happen to be in, and . . ."

"Please . . ." slurred Starkey, "Too tight . . . going to burst . . ."

Billy would have started howling with laughter right then and there, but Mullins covered his mouth. 

"Don't wake 'em," smirked Mason, "Methinks there's gonna be even more entertainment if we let the dream run its course. Eh, Maegie?" he jeered, nudging her with his elbow. 

Maegie just clenched her fists, wanting to strangle Starkey, Mason, and Jukes and lost in thought as to how to achieve all three feats at once.

  
* * *

  
The storm was at its worst and Starkey - for some reason he couldn't explain - kept climbing up the rigging. Backwards. Until the rigging suddenly collapsed. Actually, not so much collapsed as disappeared into thin air. Starkey shrieked, thinking he was going to fall, but instead floated gently back to the deck. 

"Well then," he sputtered, astonished at the miraculous save. 

"We need more rope, Captain Starkey!" yelled Jukes. "Otherwise, we can't get to the crow's nest to save Mason and Mullins! They're stranded up there!"

"Well, then get some!" Starkey yelled back. Cookson presently returned with an armful.

"Where you want me to put it?"

  
* * *

  
"Riiiiiiight therrrrrre . . . yessss . . . " 

Maegie thought she was going to burst a blood vessel. Not just hers.

By this point even the older men were having trouble concealing their mirth at her expense. Even Smee wasn't too stupid to get the innuendo pouring forth from Starkey's sleep-talk. 

"This is just ridiculous," she growled. "I'm going to wake him up." Maegie swung her legs over the bench and started to get up, only to be grabbed around the waist and firmly sat down by a still-chuckling Mason. She slapped at him until he let go -out of pity more than anything else; feeling that the poor girl had suffered enough humiliation. 

Until, unexpectedly, the tables decided to turn. 

"Mmmmm . .. Juuuuukes . . "

Everyone froze like statues.

  
* * *

  
"Jukes! What are you doing?" Starkey yelled.

"Getting some rope," the young man replied, pulling the fuse rope from the cannon. 

"But that's --"

  
* * *

  
"Too short, Jukes . . . need a longer one . . "

Billy seemed to find his voice. "Wh . . . wh . . . WHAAAAT?!" he yelled. Maegie hit the floor, dying. Mason was the second to lose control, and his balance, as he collapsed to his knees howling with mirth. Nobody tried to shush him since they weren't sure they wanted to hear what Starkey had to say next.

  
* * *

  
Starkey finished tying the rigging and looked proudly at his work. 

"How do we get it up?" asked Jukes. 

"I will carry it up myself. I can fly, remember?"

"Oh, Starkey," Maegie gushed, "You are so brave!"

"Yes, well, all in the job, my dear." Starkey nodded to her proudly, then struck a Superman pose and prepared to fly.

Nothing happened. 

"Drat. I seemed to have lost my ability. Oh dear . . ."

"Try the stairs," Jukes said, pointing to the mast which had now turned into a winding staircase leading straight up to the crow's nest.

"Why how very true!" Starkey exclaimed, staring up. He frowned and blinked at a sudden thought. "Why don't Mullins and Mason just walk down then?"

"Cause we're scaaaared!" wailed the two men in the crow's nest. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake! Very well then." Heaving the rigging over his shoulder, Starkey began to climb up the staircase, shouting an encouragement to his fellow shipmates. 

  
* * *

  
"Mullins . . . "

"What?!" panicked Robert. 

"Mason . . ."

The carpenter choked on his laughter and looked up in alarm. There was a long pause after which both men were able to breath again, believing the danger was past. 

"I'm cooooommmmmiiiiing . . . ." Starkey cried. 

"Oh m'god," Billy muttered, shaking his head. He noticed with some alarm that Mullins was reaching for his sword. "Belay that, shipmate . . ." he cautioned, though really, he couldn't find any reason why Mullins shouldn't slit Starkey's gullet. He'd always known the fop was more 'experienced' in the art of lovemaking, but this was just . . . wrong . . . 

And Maegie was loving every second of it. 

  
* * *

  
The storm had disappeared, and now the sun's rays washed over the ocean, warming all that had previously been chilled by the freezing wind, rain, and hail. Starkey managed somehow to coax the two men down from the crow's nest and back to the deck. He preened, as his shipmates praised him for his valiant efforts.

Maegie hugged him. Jukes shook his hand. Mullins gave him a thumbs up. Mason beamed. Cookson waddled up to him and boinked him on the head with a ladle. 

"Ouch!" yelled Starkey, rubbing his aching scalp. That ladle had stung. "That's certainly no way to treat your new Captain."

Cookson, in reply, boinked him on the head again. Starkey scowled. 

Cookson repeated the offense. Starkey opened his mouth to protest. 

  
* * *

  
"I say, stop boinking me, Cookson!" Starkey suddenly yelled. 

The men cringed, and all sounds of mirth stopped. 

"GAAAAAH!" Maegie yelled, sitting up. "Okay, I've heard enough! I say we wake him before he yells Smee's name!"

"Agreed," Mullins said, grimly. "I ain't never killed a man sleepin'. It's more fun when they's awake," he grinned, drawing his blade. "Cookson? You do the honors."

Gladly, the vengeful chef picked up the pitcher of grog and poured it over Starkey's sleeping face. 

"Avast!" he sputtered. "The storm's back!"

Maegie blinked. "Storm?!" she echoed. 

Starkey sat up in bed, wiping the stinging alchohol out of his eyes and looking blearily all around. When his vision focused, he realized that not only was everyone staring, but they were doing so rather murderously. "What's all the commotion?" he asked. 

"We know, Starkey," snarled Mullins. "All about your little dream."

"Oh my. I was talking in my sleep?"

"Howling in your sleep," Maegie replied sardonically. "Rather lustfully I may add."

"I didn't find anything lustful about it," growled Jukes, still seething about Starkey's comment about him. 

Starkey was too taken aback to form words. He sputtered for a moment, then scowled disapprovingly. 

"Lustful? What, prrray tell, is lustful about being squeezed to death by a young woman wearing Viking armor and ruffles, falling from suddenly non-existent rigging, asking for a simple length of rope and having the idiot gunner think that 10 inches of cannon fuse was going to be long enough to recreate the rigging, then having to climb up a staircase to fetch down a carpenter and a Brookyn broom bandit stuck in the crow's nest - practically sobbing for their mammies, might I add - and on top of that, being boinked on the head with a uncooperative chef's ladle! 

"_Lustful?!_ If that is your idea of a fantasy dream, I don't know whether to pity you or laugh! Now, if you please, I intend to trrry and sleep again -- providing such a thing is possible without getting a face-full of grog! Good _night_!"

"But . . ." sputtered Jukes. 

"Eh . . ." stammered Mason. 

"Er . . .?" was all Mullins could manage.

"Huh?" Cookson asked, scratching his head. 

"Well, bejeepers . . ." Smee murmured.

Maegie just blinked, stared at the men, and resumed dying.

"Where ever _were_ your minds?" Starkey muttered, settling down for sleep. And perhaps . . . another dream of his heroic exploits as Captain Starkey of the Jolly Roger.   


~FINIS~ 


End file.
